


Jaguar

by clear_sight



Series: Wraith [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Character Study, canon typical description of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clear_sight/pseuds/clear_sight
Summary: Spencer is used to the reactions his daemon elicits.  He had just hoped they wouldn't follow him into the BAU.





	Jaguar

Spencer Reid had always been different. That had never been up for debate. His genius had become evident very early. He had breezed through school - at least in the academic sense - graduating from high school at age twelve and, by the age of twenty three, he had earned three Ph.Ds. He had an eidetic memory and could read twenty thousand words a minute.

That difference didn’t end with his exceptional academic achievements. His daemon, Aethelthryth, settled when Spencer was twelve years old, just before he graduated from high school. During his youth, she had taken all sorts of whimsical forms. Creatures from the various books he read with his mother, those of far away lands or distant times, or even just plain fantasy. It had worried his teachers, but Diana Reid had been delighted. At least, until her health had begun to fail.

But when he was twelve, he had been ambushed by a group of older students. They had subdued him while their daemons had held Aethelthryth at bay. While the older students stripped him and bound him, she had fought to get to him. Their daemons had all settled, but she hadn’t yet. She used that to her advantage, shifting through form after form, from the tiny to the terrifyingly predatory. When she took the form of a jaguar, she was finally large enough, heavy enough, fierce enough to break through their defenses and get to him. After she had run them off and torn away the bindings, they realized what had happened. She had settled.

For the next ten years, he and Aethelthryth learned to endure the stares and whispers. Spencer was too small, too thin, and too young. Aethelthryth was too big, too predatory, too dangerous. They seemed mismatched. It made people question. What were they hiding? What was wrong with them? Abuse of some kind? Some sort of psychosis? There had to be something, for this beanpole of a kid to end up with one of the most powerful predators in the western hemisphere as a daemon.

Then, they began at the FBI academy, and that was when things started to change. Most of the recruits had predatory daemons of some kind. By far, the majority were dogs. Another large portion were wild canids, such as wolves and coyotes. After that, came raptors. Hawks and falcons made up the majority of these. There were, though, a number of cats. The only other large cat of the group was a cougar. Which still made them unusual, but not as unusual. Here, they stood out more of Spencer’s brilliance than for Aethelthryth’s form.

 

* * *

 

“The new guy starts today, doesn’t he?” Morgan asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Ashta, his grey wolf daemon, sat attentively at his side. “From what I’ve heard, he’s practically a kid. And his daemon…”

“Like you’ve got room to talk,” JJ chimed in as she moved past him to the coffee maker. She gave a meaningful glance at Ashta.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know there are plenty of wolves in the FBI.”

“And you’re aware of the theories about them, aren’t you?” This time it was Gideon who spoke. His black merlin daemon was perched on his shoulder, watching Morgan curiously. “Abuse, violence, some sort of trauma. Of course, you know most of that is outdated bullshit. We can’t profile someone purely by their daemon. Maybe hold your judgement until you’ve met the kid.”

JJ gave him a look that said _I told you so_ and a little shrug before walking away. Her red fox daemon, Guiscard, trotted at her heels, yipping in a mocking imitation of a laugh.

Morgan just buried the fingers of his free hand into Ashta’s ruff, looking down at her and telling her, “Don’t listen to them, Ashta. There’s nothin’ wrong with us.”

That was about the time the doors to the bullpen opened and a young man walked in, looking lost. He was tall and thin, dressed in a button down shirt, corduroys, and a sweater vest with a haircut that made him look half his age. While the man looked as unimposing as could be, the jaguar prowling along at his side ruined that image in a heartbeat. The big cat kept her head level with her shoulders, her mouth slightly open to taste the air. It also had the effect of showing off her impressive fangs. Her eyes darted around keenly, taking in everyone in the room. Morgan and Ashta just watched, Ashta’s attention on the cat while Morgan watched heads turn and a hush fall over the room. Then Gideon broke away from the cluster of agents around the coffee pot, going over to greet the young man enthusiastically.

“Dr. Reid! It’s good to see you again,” he called, walking over to clap the young man on the shoulder, receiving a small, nervous smile in return. From Gideon’s shoulder, Asa called down to the jaguar, “How did training treat you?”

The jaguar gave a toothy grin in return. “Me? Easy.” She tossed her head towards the young man. “Him? Not so much.”

“That’s hardly fair, Ryth,” the man objected, looking down at his daemon with an expression of betrayal. She just grinned up at him and said, “But it’s true.”

“Team, I want you to meet Dr. Spencer Reid,” Gideon announced. “He and Aethelthryth will be joining us here in the BAU.”

The jaguar sat and leaned against the man’s side, clearly feeling the anxiety so plainly displayed in the man’s expression. Well, this was going to be interesting. From her quiet _wuff_ at his side, Morgan could tell Ashta agreed. The kid looked like he couldn’t be older than twenty. But Gideon had called him Doctor Reid. Implying that he had some kind of advanced degree. In this field, probably a Psy.D or Ph.D, but he could be an MD or Pharm.D, though those were far less likely.

Predictably, JJ was the first one to break from the nervously waiting pack of profilers, all smiles and professionalism. She held out a hand to him, though it took a moment for him to take it.

“Welcome to the team,” she greeted, while Guiscard went to sniff at the jaguar. He did an admirable job of not flinching when she sniffed him in return. After a brief handshake, JJ released his hand and introduced herself. “Jennifer Jareau. But call me JJ. I’m the team’s media liaison.”

After her came Garcia, her river otter daemon scuttling along at her side. Garcia, however, did not do handshakes. Instead, she gave him a short, tight hug that the man clearly didn’t know how to respond to. “Penelope Garcia. Technical analyst. Your daemon is beautiful. And that is totally inappropriate of me to say, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Reid said slowly after Garcia let go, brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “No, it’s alright.”

God, he even sounded young. Not to mention insecure. Ashta looked up at Morgan for a moment, then leaned back to push at the back of his knee with her snout. “You’re going to make us look like assholes,” she hissed just loudly enough for Morgan to hear her. “Go welcome him.”

Morgan was saved from having to either give in or tell her off when Hotch came down the steps from his office. Olivia trotted behind him with a similar solemn expression. “I hate to rain on the welcome party, but we have a case. Briefing room, now.” He paused, then added. “And welcome to the team, Dr. Reid.”

“Looks like Hotch spared us the awkwardness,” Morgan shot back smugly.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, they were all on the jet, headed out to a little town in the middle of nowhere, Montana. There was usually a fair amount of genial banter that went on during these flights, between strategy discussions and briefings from Garcia. Today, though, it was oddly quiet. Of course there were still discussions about strategy and updates from Garcia, but there Spencer was sitting next to one of the windows, with Ryth stretched over the seat next to him, her head and forepaws in his lap. He was absentmindedly petting her head and pretending not to notice the way many of the other agents and daemons were watching them. It wasn't as though they weren't used to this, after all. They had just hoped it wouldn't follow them here.

They had already taken note of the names and forms of all of the other agents and daemons and Spencer was silently picking each apart in his head. First off, there was the man who had headhunted them. Jason Gideon was a quiet man, seemingly ordinary until you heard him speak. His daemon, Asa, was a black merlin, a subspecies of merlin from the Pacific Northwest. Merlins were a small species of falcon. That made sense, considering Gideon's lifelong fascination with birds. It was also appropriate in that merlins were used frequently in falconry and could be used to hunt year round in both rural and urban settings. The name Asa was Hebrew and meant “healer,” just as Gideon's own given name meant “to heal.”

Then there was their team leader, Aaron Hotchner, who Spencer had quickly realized everyone just called Hotch. His daemon was a redbone coonhound. Redbones were exceptional trailing and treeing dogs which were used for hunting a number of animals, from mountain lions to, as the name implied, raccoons. He had learned her name was Olivia. He wasn't sure, though, if it was intended to mean “olive,” like it's Roman origins, or if Hotch's parents’ daemons had simply liked the name Olivia. The coonhound had the exact same stern, stoic expression as Hotch himself, something Spencer had been previously unaware coonhounds were capable of.

The others, Ryth had learned from Asa. Jennifer Jareau had a red fox daemon named Guiscard. The name was Medieval French meaning “wise and brave.” Foxes were the subject of lore all over the world. Often, they were portrayed as tricksters. Sly, cunning creatures who could outwit nearly any opponent. Which suggested there might be more to her than met the eye.

Penelope Garcia, who had remained behind in DC, had a river otter daemon called Xochipilli, though she and nearly everyone else just called him Chipilli or simply Pilli. River otters were smart, playful, and could be easily trained. The name was a little bit more of a mystery to Spencer. It was the name of an Aztec god of love, flowers, song, and games. It meant “flower prince” in Nahuatl. She seemed far too, well, _white_ for such a name, but Spencer knew that these days, with the ease of international travel and the higher frequency of interracial relationships, that didn't necessarily mean anything. Eventually, if he ever got up the nerve, maybe he would ask about it. Garcia, by both his impression and Gideon’s and Hotch's accounts of her, didn't have a mean bone in her body.

Finally, there were the man and daemon whose eyes Spencer and Ryth had been feeling watching them all day. Derek Morgan and his grey wolf daemon. He, along with everyone else in the unit, called her Ashta, but according to Asa, that was shortened from Ashtoret. That was particularly interesting to Spencer, as the name could be traced back through Biblical mythology to Semetic mythology and from there to Phonecian mythology specifically. Ashtoret was a Phonecian goddess of love, war, and fertility. While Spencer didn't know much about Morgan yet, that seemed somewhat fitting for someone with a wolf daemon. Of wolf daemons, most were grey wolves. But the popular thinking on wolf daemons were that they indicated some sort of abuse or trauma early in life. Gideon would chastise him for making assumptions, but that would track with just how wary the man and daemon seemed. Then again, most people were around them.

After a few minutes - plenty long enough for Spencer to sort through all of that - Ryth opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You know,” she said softly, “they'll warm up. Gideon told you as much. And they're behavioral analysts. They'll take into account how you and I both act rather than just what I happen to be.”

“I know,” Spencer agreed, just as quietly. “I just can't help feeling like I'm back at CalTech all over again.”

Her only response was to sit up, set one massive paw on his shoulder, and lick a stripe up the side of his head, eliciting a quiet yelp. Immediately, she started cackling at the way it made his hair stick up at crazy angles. When she started laughing, Spencer couldn't help laughing, too. He shoved playfully at her and exclaimed, “Hey! We're FBI agents now. And your species has been representative of gods for thousands of years. Aren't you supposed to have some measure of dignity?”

 

* * *

 

“How old is that kid?” Morgan asked JJ, watching the interaction between Reid and his daemon.

“Twenty three,” JJ replied, stroking a hand over Guiscard's fur. “Seems awfully young, doesn't it? For this job. All the death and evil we see every day. He should barely be past the stage of his life where his biggest worries are grades and girls.”

Morgan's eyebrows rose at that answer. “Twenty three? Seriously?” He paused a moment. “What about the daemon? I've never seen a jaguar outside of Central and South America. And that kid seems way too timid and skinny to have a daemon like that.”

“They passed the psych eval,” JJ said by way of answer. “And jaguars are rare where he's from, but they are native.” She could, though, understand where Morgan was coming from. Such a large, predatory daemon was troubling, if that was all one had to judge by. But the way he interacted with her was playful. That was a good sign. She just hoped this job didn't rob him of that.

 

* * *

 

When they landed, it didn't take long to get to the local police station. Morgan and Gideon were dispatched to the latest crime scene. Ashta had a very powerful nose and Asa would be able to get a good look at the scene from above. Hotch stayed behind to oversee operations and JJ was coordinating with the local police and the media. Which left Spencer. One of his greatest skills was pattern recognition. The killer they were hunting seemed to have some sort of ritual he was following. As Ryth lounged at his feet, he studied the map the locals had set up. There was something odd about the layout of it. The positioning of the crime scenes was odd.

Out in the bullpen, Hotch was chatting with the local sheriff. He had, predictably, a Plott hound daemon, who seemed to be getting on swimmingly with Olivia. It seemed that most police had some sort of hound or shepherd. German shepherds were common, as were Belgian malinois, various breeds of coonhound, and the occasional pit breed. Big, sturdy dogs built for defense or tracking. Most others had some sort of raptor. Ryth watched the daemons of all the locals with lazy interest. It wasn’t until Hotch came back into the conference room that she perked up. Spencer turned around to see Hotch and Olivia watching them intently.

“Something wrong, doctor?” Hotch asked. His tone wasn’t mocking, it wasn’t snide, it wasn’t any of the things Spencer had gotten accustomed to hearing when people referred to him as doctor. There was a professional interest there, but that was it.

“Actually, yeah,” Spencer replied, pointing to the location of the first crime scene. “Our killer seems to be making something. I mean, we’ve seen the above views of the scenes. There’s something highly ritualistic about this.”

“And you don’t mean a ritual that’s just part of the unsub’s individual routine,” Hotch surmised.

“No,” Reid confirmed. He pointed to the first crime scene. “Look here. There was a wheel here. Made out of the victim’s entrails. The whole scene was staged like a sacrifice. The victim was buried in the center of that circle. It’s not entirely clear whether or not she was dead yet.”

He shifted focus to the second site and continued. “This victim is male. He was impaled on a wooden stake - the cause of death was exsanguination or shock - the body burnt afterwards. It’s due south of the first scene.”

Next, he pointed to the third site. “This one is equidistant from the first and second to the east. The victim there drowned, but there’s no body of water nearby. The unsub created one just large enough to drown the victim and submerge her body. The victim here was female. There’s something about this....”

For a few long moments, he seemed almost to forget that Hotch was in the room with him, his attention glued to the map. Ryth sat up and stared at it as well. Suddenly, the quiet broke with Ryth whispering to Spencer, “Elements and directions. Earth in the north, fire in the south, water in the east…”

“Tarot!” Spencer exclaimed. “He’s following the tarot arcanas. The suit of pentacles or disks is associated with the element of earth and the direction north. The victim there was female. Earth is usually associated with women. The suit of staffs or wands is associated with the element of fire and the direction south. The victim at this site was male, and fire is traditionally associated with men. The suit of cups is associated with the element of water and the direction east. Water is also traditionally associated with women.”

“The next victim!” Ryth cut in.

“You’re right!” Spencer exclaimed. He pointed to a spot on the map, one that would complete the square formed by the other three scenes. “Our next victim is going to die here. He’ll be male, cause of death will probably exsanguination due to stabbing or evisceration. If I had to guess at a disposal method, I’d say sky burial. Build a platform, cut the body open, leave it for scavengers. The suit of swords, associated with air and the west and traditionally an element associated with men.”

“You don’t think he’ll deviate now that the first three scenes have been found?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t think he can,” Spencer replied. To Hotch’s great surprise, Ryth chimed in, adding, “He’s started this, he can’t relocate now. He has to complete the compass.”

It took Hotch a moment to get over the fact that Ryth had just spoken to him. That was highly unusual. Daemons spoke to one another and humans spoke to one another, but a human did not speak to another human’s daemon and a daemon did not speak to another daemon’s human. That was one of the most basic pieces of human-daemon etiquette, just after never touch another person's daemon. But in this case, it did make a certain amount of sense. If she had input on the case and didn’t feel it necessary to filter it through Reid, well, daemons were screened for these jobs too.

“Right. We need to send a team out there,” Hotch said. And with that, he was out the door, calling to the local cops before getting his phone out.

Spencer and Ryth didn’t join them at the scene. They stayed behind to man the office. After all, they were new. They were inexperienced. They tried to tell themselves that it had nothing to do with the distrust they had picked up from the locals and Morgan. For hours, they waited. And then, _finally_ , Gideon called. They had caught their killer. Just as Spencer and Ryth had predicted, he had shown up with a male would-be victim, armed with a number of bladed weapons. When the team had arrived on scene, there was already a platform set up, just as Spencer had predicted.

 

* * *

 

Once they were all back on the plane, Spencer had settled in with Ryth, anticipating a quiet flight home. Gideon had congratulated them back at the station for a job well done. Spencer’s oft mocked knowledge of random trivia had, in this instance, saved a man’s life. What they didn’t expect was for Morgan to slide into the seat across from them. Ashta settled at his feet, still watching Ryth with a hint of apprehension. Spencer and Ryth watched them back, wondering what this was about.

It took Morgan a moment to speak. Finally, he said, “You did good back there, kid. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, you bein’ so young and all. But you did good. You saved that man’s life.”

Spencer took the “and all” to mean Ryth. Still, he smiled at the comment. All he gave in return, though, was a quiet, “Thanks.” And then a moment later, “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Morgan confirmed. Ashta’s tail wagged slightly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding. “Yeah, it does.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been mostly an exercise to get Spencer's voice back for RP purposes. It was also a chance for me to sort out everyone's daemons and their names and what all of everything means. However, it's been fun to write. I actually have a case fic planned with all of these guys plus Elle. So while this was a character study, it will probably end up being the first in a collection.
> 
> As to Spencer's speculation that Garcia is too white for her daemon to have a Nahuatl name. She is, except that her adoptive parents weren't. As far as I can remember, we're never told when she was adopted, so I made the assumption of at birth. Mostly this is because of how she talks about her family and some of the festivals, foods, and other bits of folklife she's shown engaging with that seem to indicate she grew up in a Latinx household. That assumption that anyone Latinx will look a certain way, though, is a common misconception and one I've experienced fairly frequently. I actually am Latinx by ancestry and I still get told all the time that I'm too white for my very Latinx last name.


End file.
